I had every intention of going for an eleven mile run today, I really did. I was going to feel the rhythm of my body and breathe and ruminate on the book un-knot the tangled bits and re-think the wobbly bits and meditate on my two main characters, and I would come back refreshed, re-energized, and re-committed to the project. And what’s more, I would be a new woman, a new writer, a new everything.
But then, it snowed.
Blizzard in St. Paul: April, 1923
Courtesy the Minnesota Historical Society
And granted, it didn’t snow as much as it did on those guys, it still is too much for me to bear right now. I want some spring weather, damnit. I deserve it. So I’m drinking tea instead, and meditating on my desperately-in-need-of-sweeping floor, and I’ll be a new woman all on my own. Because it is April 20, for god’s sake, and I am NOT RUNNING IN THE SNOW.
(She stomps away)
(She puts on her running shoes anyway and heads out, cursing the skies)